


ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 2

by OtterlyWasted



Series: ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Prythian, The Night Court, The Spring Court (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyWasted/pseuds/OtterlyWasted
Summary: WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.This Section:Ch. 1 - Rhysand collects Feyre for her second visitCh. 2 - Rhysand and Feyre eat breakfast and he tests her reading & writingCh. 3 - Rhysand goes to Hewn City (New Scene)Ch. 4 - Rhysand returns Feyre to the Spring CourtCh. 5 - Rhysand and Mor rescue FeyreI hope you all enjoy!*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.





	1. Paint the Color of Blood

The following three weeks were… indescribable. They were pain and longing, nagging fear and solid hard work. There were brief moments of happiness with my family, a constant source of comradeship and trust that always helped ease the ache of the emptiness, even if only for a few minutes at a time.

I remained resolved in my intention to release her from the bargain, though there were moments that tested my resolve. Occasions when the bond between us would thrum with emotion, and never feelings of joy but rather of pain and grief. But that did not mean she wasn’t happy, she was still recovering, we all were – it could take time, years, centuries even for her to work through everything from Under the Mountain.

But if I was honest with myself, worse than the moments when the bond echoed the feelings of grief and guilt, were the moments when the bond echoed… nothing. Despite the distance, and the rather impressive shielding she was doing, I should have still been able to feel… something. Some hint of her being alive. And there were moments, hours and days, when I felt absolutely nothing. And terror would grip me, and I would not be able to resist reaching out and tugging ever so lightly on the bond just to feel the resistance of it – insuring she was still there, at the end of it. Still alive.

With only a week and a half to go before I would see her again, I was finding it more difficult to focus, but I was _trying._ Because it would always be this way and I had to find a way to manage these times when she was the only thing I could think about. I had a responsibility to my people, and I couldn’t shirk those jobs just because my mind was so full of Feyre there was hardly room for anything else.

And unfortunately, this was one of those days. And I was in a meeting with Amren that could not be avoided any further. I was sitting in her loft apartment, across from her as she sat in front of her desk, leaning back in her chair, books piled in front of her on the table and her eyes narrowed at me with accusation.

“Rhysand you have been holding back on me.”

I winced slightly – she was not wrong. For months now she had been digging through books, looking for answers to the dilemma of how the King of Hybern intended to take down the wall.

“Let me guess, your research has not been… successful.”

Her eyes narrowed further, “I have come across some theories, but no, it has not been. Until I decided to take a wild leap of faith.” She leaned forward and tapped a scroll, the only one on her desk. “I remembered something and went digging and found this.” 

I arched a brow at her in silent question at what that scroll might be, but instead of her answer that she stared at me and spoke the words I had been dreading to hear.

“The Cauldron… is real.”

I sucked in a slow, shallow breath and closed my eyes briefly. I had heard Amarantha mention it in passing while she was having a conversation with the Attor – a conversation I was not meant to hear. It had not been easy to garner information about it while I was still trapped Under the Mountain, but I had worked at it cautiously. Snippets of information collected over the years, and often correlated by the High Lord of the Day Court – an old friend who few realized was even a friend of mine. His knowledge of the Cauldron was limited, and without his libraries to aid him, there was little he could tell me, but it had been a start.

I opened my eyes to meet Amren’s and nodded once before I said, “I know.” I wished it wasn’t true, the implications were not good.

I gestured, “What is that-“

FEAR

FEAR PANIC BLOOD

Red blood… or was it paint? Coating a wall, and fear so strong it pumped through my veins thrummed down the bond. I saw Tamlin, standing in front of me, breathing hard, his face shifting from pure anger to terror and then… Nothing. 

All emotion cut off. All vision to what she was seeing disappeared.

I sat frozen in my chair, my heart racing and my lungs burning with a need to breath. I gasped hard for air, my nails digging into the arms of the chair as I reached out blindly and felt for the bond, running my claws along it, pulling…

_Please please please…_

Resistance. She was still there. Feyre was still there, still alive.

I nearly sobbed, as it was a low sound choked out of me as I sagged back in my chair.

I had no idea what happened, what caused that surge of panic, that overriding fear, but the brief flash of Tamlin gave me a hint.

Rage built up inside of me… if he had hurt her, if he had even raised a hand to hurt her – I would _slaughter_ him, I would peel him apart piece by piece… 

My vision was tinted with red, rage so thick it coated my tongue as I felt my darkness clawing its way out of me, beginning to spill out in waves…

“Rhysand.”

One word. My name. But spoken from a creature who was more ancient than our world.

I froze and raised my gaze to meet hers.

Amren was not prone to sympathy, but there was kindness in her eyes.

“Is she alive?” Was all she asked.

How she knew I could not guess. But I managed a nod.

“Then reign it in boy. Destroying this city will not save her, especially if she is not dead.”

My anger surged again at her words, but I recognized the logic in them, and drew my darkness back inside, inch by inch, until none of it leaked out.

When I had control again, I spoke harshly, my voice rough with the rage that was still there beneath the surface, “I need to find Azriel. Now.”

She nodded once, “Go. We will finish this later.”

I stood and prepared to winnow to the House of Wind but hesitated and turned back to her. “What did you find in the scroll?”

She smirked slightly and lifted it, “Oh this?” She unfurled it and showed it to me. Blank.

“Nothing – you confirmed my suspicion.”

Any other day I might have said something in response, called her out on it – but this time I just turned and between one breath and the next, stepped through my shadows and to the air above the House of Wind, falling freely for a moment before spreading my wings and circling down to the roof, landing with a soft thud and tucking my wings in, making my way inside to the war room – looking for Azriel.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

Azriel had very little to report to me.

After I had found him and asked him to call in reports from his spies at the Spring Court – of which he did not have many – they could not report many details to either of us. There had been a fight, they could confirm that, and they could confirm that Feyre was alive and unharmed.

And that was it.

And it was enough to drive me nearly to madness. I still had over a week to wait, and the resolve I had once held to free her wavered until it was practically nonexistent. Not because she didn’t deserve her freedom – but because I couldn’t bear the thought of having some way, any way of getting her out if I needed to.

Mor cornered me only once during the week, to prudently remind me that I already had a way to get her out – and it was more solid than a silly bargain made Under the Mountain. I had managed not to kill her, but I had yelled at her – an action I regretted and later apologized to her about. She forgave me, I suspected before I had even apologized. She did not push me about it again.

The day before I could collect her, I was useless, and Cauldron bless my family, they left me alone. I had retreated to the Night Court and spent the day pacing the palace, trying to hold myself together by inches, checking the sky over and over, waiting for the sun to sink behind the mountain and the stars to appear. And then wait just long enough for midnight to pass.

Finally.

I pulled the darkness in around myself and cast across the world until my feet landed on the flagstone pavers in the Spring Court outside the manor house. It was pitch black out and the manor and all its inhabitants were asleep. But I knew he would feel me arrive. My heart thudded and I could taste the echo of rage I had felt that moment her fear had raced down the bond through me.

I still wanted him dead.

I made my way up the steps to the front of the manor house and felt the wards there and almost laughed – they were soap bubbles, fragile constructs. He had always been more beast than fae, his control of magic was child’s play compared to the constructs I could form. A gesture of my hand and they were pushed aside.

I opened the carved front door and stepped inside. The scent of her hit me so hard it was almost like a physical impact.

 _Feyre_.

I swallowed and made my way to the stair case and began to climb up it, step by step.

I had done this once before – climbed these stairs, but that had been with the intent to kill. This time, while I would not hesitate to kill Tamlin, this time I had the intent to rescue.

I reached the landing and began down the hallway, when a door opened suddenly and Tamlin stepped out to meet me – his face suffused with rage. And I could smell her on him. Bile rose in my throat.

“Get out.” He growled, his talons extending past his knuckles.

“Good morning to you as well.” I purred.

“I’ll say it one last time-“

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Where is she?” I grinned at him tauntingly.

As if in response, the door he had walked out of opened, and peeking past it was Feyre, hair a total disaster, wrapped in a blanket.

And my heart froze. My grin faltered and fell.

She was worse. So much worse.

I scanned her from head to toe and her body was thin, too, too thin, her cheeks were sunken, the marks under her eyes nearly black, and her eyes… they seemed nearly vacant. That radiance in her… it was… it was dimmed, so dark, it seemed almost snuffed out.

“Feyre,” I managed, nearly choking on her name. I shifted my gaze to Tamlin, as rage had begun boiling up in me at the sight of her. The thoughtless, self-absorbed coward! Why couldn’t he see what was happening to her? I nearly growled as I asked, thinking maybe, just maybe, he might finally recognize how bad off she was. “Are you running low on food here?”

He was completely oblivious. “What?” He demanded without an ounce of realization.

One day I was going to kill him, and I would take a long time doing it. But not today. Today I had to get her out.

I turned my eyes back to Feyre and extended a hand to her, “Let’s go.”

In an instant Tamlin was in my face, snarling, “ _Get out.”_ He pointed towards the stairs, “She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

If he thought for one second that he could intimidate me – he was sorely, _sorely_ mistaken. The only reason he was still breathing was because the only thing more important than killing him was standing behind him in the doorway, and I had to get her out. Now.

And I wanted him to realize how absolutely powerless he was against me. I wanted him to feel just a fraction of what Feyre must be feeling every day beneath the yoke of his control.

I reached up, and brushed a fleck of dust from his sleeve, and smirked at him.

Feyre’s shields were lowered slightly, they had been since she had come to the door, and I had been avoiding looking too closely – respecting her privacy as best I could.

But I couldn’t help when she shouted things down the bond at me, which this time was almost a relief as it had been nearly a month since she had done so, and this thought nearly made me laugh – her fear of his teeth anywhere near her throat.

I shifted my gaze to her, “No you wouldn’t have.” I told her and grinned, “As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin’s teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face.”

I felt her shield snap back into place solidly, and though this meant her contact with me was ended, I was still proud of her.

 _“Shut your mouth,”_ Tamlin snarled at me, stepping further between us, “ _And get out.”_

This was getting us nowhere. I could have just winnowed into the bedroom and grabbed her and winnowed out – but that would have led to all sorts of additional problems, the least of which being Feyre thoroughly pissed off with me. Instead, I conceded one step back and slid my hands into my pockets and continued on conversationally.

“You really should have your wards inspected. Cauldron knows what other sort of riffraff might stroll in here as easily as I did.”

I shifted my gaze back to her, examining her minutely, continuing to note the subtle marks of neglect, the rage continuing to simmer inside of me.

“Put some clothes on.”

She bared her teeth at me before slipping back into the room, Tamlin following right behind her and slamming the door hard enough to make the chandeliers above my head shake.

I waited and listened, ears straining to hear through the door.

_“…get in…”_

_“…part of…. game he’s playing…”_

Silence.

_“…war is coming… mend things.”_

Interesting, so she had mentioned what I told her to him, at least in part.

_“…releases you… bargain.”_

_“…listen to him.”_

_“…recover in peace... earned it… relaxed… sentries…. isn’t the time….”_

Silence again.

And I was impatient. So, I coughed, once.

The door opened a moment later and Feyre stepped through it, walking towards me and I couldn’t help but frown at the sight of her. She wore the Night Court clothes she had left in last time, but they were so loose on her, they slid across her skin, which was pale and sallow, and her hair, still tangled with sleep, was dull and failed to shimmer with the dim lights of the hallway.

She looked half dead. And it killed me. Get her out – I had to get her out.

I locked down my face, removing all expression, and just raised a hand for her to take.

But Tamlin appeared in front of her, shoving my hand aside roughly – the panic riding high across his face, “You end her bargain right here, right now, and I’ll give you anything you want. Anything.”

Feyre went still. “Are you out of your mind?”

Tamlin didn’t even look at her as he stared me down.

I simply arched a brow at him. “I already have everything I want.” Which was the most bold-faced lie I had ever made about anything – ever. But I doubted he would give me her… besides, she was not an object, a prize to be given.

I stepped around Tamlin and reached for Feyre, taking her hand, and without letting her say goodbye, I winnowed us to the Night Court.


	2. The Silence Before The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand collects Feyre for her second visit  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand and Feyre eat breakfast and he tests her reading & writing  
> Ch. 3 - Rhysand goes to Hewn City (New Scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Rhysand returns Feyre to the Spring Court  
> Ch. 5 - Rhysand and Mor rescue Feyre
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

“What the hell happened to you?” I asked her, even as the darkness still swirled around us, taking us to the Night Court. I had her wrapped in my arms, and she was so thin, so frail feeling, as though she had the bones of a delicate bird. Breakable. I could see the protrusion of her collar bones and feel the sharp edge of her spine through her shirt.

She was worse, so much worse. And it was my fault. I had sent her back. By the rules governing the bargain I had to send her back… but I should have fought for her – should have gone and got her that day the panic slammed down the bond. But… this was what she wanted. Tamlin was who she wanted. Her choice – it was her choice.

She never noticed the war battling inside my head as our feet settled on the shimmering moonstone floors of the Night Court.

“Why don’t you just look inside my head?” She said in retort, but there was no bite to it, no ire. She didn’t even try and shove me off her once we arrived, just waiting until I let go and stepped aside. Docile. Resigned. Subservient.

My stomach twisted, but I hid my fear and gave her a playful wink, trying to reach out, call to that brilliant flame inside of her. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She didn’t smile – well she never smiled with me, so that wasn’t surprising, but she also did not scowl or snarl or react at all.

“No shoe throwing this time?” I tried again, teasing. _Come on,_ I called out to her with my soul, _play with me._  

Nothing.

She just turned and headed towards the stairs leading to her room.

The panic overwhelmed me – her soul wasn’t just bruised anymore… it was bleeding out. I was losing her. All over again. I took a half step towards her and called out, nearly begged her, the words coming out rushed, almost strangled, “Eat breakfast with me.” 

She stopped. And turned to look at me, her loose clothes sliding over her body.

Dull eyes met mine with hardly a trace of interest, “Don’t you have other things to deal with?”

I swallowed and managed the vaguest hint of a grin, “Of course I do,” and shrugged, “I have so many things to deal with that I’m sometimes tempted to unleash my power across the world and wipe the board clean. Just to buy me some damned peace.” I knew she wouldn’t read between the lines of what I said, but I wished with all my heart that she would. That I might have a full plate, but I would pick her over it all. Always. And at a single word from her, I would wipe the slate clean, I would come for her, I would conquer worlds for her, and her alone. Managing a better grin this time, I bowed to her… my Mate. I would bow only to my Mate. “But I’ll always make time for you.”

She didn’t respond to my proclamation, just as I knew she wouldn’t, it seemed almost as though she didn’t even really hear it. Or that she couldn’t process it. Either way however, she did finally lift one hand, the bones were too visible at each joint, the bones of her wrist jutting out sharply, and gestured for me to lead her to the dining table.

I was relieved, no, I was beyond relieved – I was euphoric. I had one week – just one, to help her, to revive her body, her spirit… and make a decision. The weight of which bore down on me so heavily I was mildly surprised my knees did not buckle beneath it.

She walked beside me, not close enough to touch, but closer than she had at the last visit – close enough that I could hear the sound of her heart, the rhythm of which seemed off to me, slightly erratic, and hear each breath, which was short and a little labored. I shortened my normally longer pace to ease her effort, my concern for her increasing with each passing moment.

When we were finally in sight of the table, piled with food and a full pot of tea, I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, and could no longer deny my burning curiosity.

“I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond.” Reaching the table, I slid into my customary seat, and watched her slide into the one across from me – the chair Mor had occupied last time between us left empty. “Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?” The memory of her fear slamming into me, and the brief glimpse of Tamlin’s face brought forth all the rage I had felt at the time, but I managed to keep the darkness at bay for the moment. Barely.

She didn’t even glance at me as she replied, “It was nothing.”

I reached for the pot of tea, and poured two cups, adding a splash of milk to one and a spoonful of sugar to the other. When I didn’t respond to her, she did finally glance at me, and seemed slightly startled at the look on my face, which was likely barely contained rage.

“If you know,” she said coldly to mask her shock I guessed, “why even ask about it?”

I leaned over, handing her the cup of tea with milk, then leaned back and watched her.

Finally, I replied quietly, giving her far and away more truth than I should. “Because these days, all I hear through the bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to _feel_ you. And yet I don’t. Sometimes I’ll tug on the bond only to make sure you’re still alive.” I felt the darkness in me try to surge forward again, and had to grapple with it for a moment, holding it down inside of me. “And then one day, I’m in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him – and then nothing. Back to silence. I’d like to know what caused such a disruption.”

She began to fill her plate with food, and I could tell from the way glossiness of her eyes and the mechanical way in which her body moved, that she wasn’t even really paying attention to what she put on her plate. She just didn’t care. Cauldron, it didn’t even look as though she had the energy to care. My heart contracted painfully.

“It was an argument,” she said dismissively, “and the rest is none of your concern.”

An argument. Just an argument. That lead to a surge of panic and fear so strong it nearly caused my power to explode out of me in response. Just a simple argument.

My eyes narrowed slightly, nails digging into the arm of my chair before I took a breath and then asked quietly, “Is it why you look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?”

She didn’t even scowl at me. Just said quietly, “Get out of my head.”

There was no fight in her. And it terrified me.

“Make me.” I challenged her. “ _Push_ me out. You dropped your shield this morning – anyone could have walked right in.”

She finally met my gaze and held it and there was just… nothing. No annoyance or anger or curiosity – no brilliance. I felt my own panic begin to constrict my throat… Had I lost her already? No… no she couldn’t be gone, there must be something. Anything to call out to, to bring her back.

She finally looked away, back to her plate, and deflected – at least that was a little comfort, something she used to do. “Where’s Mor?”

I cursed myself. Mor! I hadn’t asked her to be here this week, Feyre hadn’t taken advantage of her offered company last time, and I had been planning on using this week to say good bye, to let go of Feyre, I didn’t want anyone else around for that. But if Feyre was asking for her, should I send for Mor… but she was in Hewn city this week, which wasn’t far away ironically, however she was in the middle of some touchy negotiations I did not, could not distract her from.

Nearly growling with frustration, I responded simply, lamely. “Away. She has duties to attend to.”

Letting out a low sigh of frustration at my poor planning, I tried to sort out the chaos that was my mind. What was I going to do… Feyre.

I had planned on letting her go. But looking at her, I couldn’t let her go… I had to. But…

Darkness began to leak out of me in gentle tendrils.

“Is… the wedding on hold then?”

She barely paused eating, not even looking up at me as she mumbled, “Yes.” 

Relief coursed through me, so sweet it cleared my head a little and I managed a playful response, calling out to that radiance inside of her again. “I expected an answer more along the lines of ‘ _Don’t ask stupid questions you already know the answer to’,_ or my timeless favorite, _‘Go to hell.’_ ”

Silence.

There had been times in my life where I craved peace and silence more than I had craved air to breathe. This was not one of those times, and I had a sinking suspicion I would never crave it again. Silence meant she had given up. Silence meant she was gone.

She could not be gone.

At least she was eating I told myself. That was something, it had to be a sign that there was still some fight left in her – her body at least continued to want to live enough to crave sustenance.

I cast my mind about, looking for another avenue of approach, another way to reach her. The offer! I couldn’t believe I had forgotten it. I raised my hands, resting them flat on the table and finally noticed the darkness swirling lightly around them. I was not handling myself well this morning.

Swallowing I asked, “Did you give my offer any thought?” 

She didn’t answer for several minutes, cleaning her plate of food and then piling more on. She was eating like she hadn’t seen food in years. My thoughts flickered back to Tamlin and rage once again raced through me. How could he not _see_ this?

She responded simply, “I’m not going to work with you.”

Of course not. She had given up.

I had to ask though. “And why, Feyre, are you refusing me?”

Why are you refusing life?

She pushed some fruit around on her plate before she answered. “I’m not going to be a part of this war you think is coming. You said I should be a weapon, not a pawn – they seem like the same to me. The only difference is who’s wielding it.”

Her answer, while still a denial of working with me, still filled me with a certain degree of happiness. She wasn’t rejecting a reason to live; she just didn’t trust me. Still not good, just… not as bad.

_Come on Feyre, play with me._

I let a touch of annoyance into my voice, “I want your help, not to manipulate you.” I snapped.

As though my touch of temper awoke something in her, just a bit, she lifted her head and looked at me. “You want my help because it’ll piss of Tamlin.” 

I wanted laugh – that was actually the last thing on my mind, hell it hadn’t even made the list until she mentioned it, but hey, if it did, all the better.

But my temper had touched something in her, so I continued with the thread of it, so delicate and fine because I just instinctually knew that too much force on my part would just shut her down again. I didn’t tamper down the darkness still leaking out of me, letting the tendrils of it swirl around my fingers and now my back, forming the vague outline of wings.

“Fine,” I said quietly, “I dug that grave myself, with all I did Under the Mountain. But I need your help.” 

And I did need her help with the war – it wasn’t just a pretty lie I made up to give her purpose. There were perhaps other ways of going about doing what I needed to do, but she would be the most direct method. But more than that, I needed her help to save her – I could only do so much, she had to be willing to do the rest. 

I stared at her, studied her, and willed her to take interest, to ask, to push me.

Silence again, that damn, evil, awful silence.

Fine. She was rejecting to help me at least partially because she did not trust me. I could understand why that was the case – and only time could remedy that. Time and honesty. I considered for one second telling her, but just the sight of her right now, so eaten up by her own darkness – I did not want to shackle her to me and mine, could not do it.

So instead I decided to sacrifice to her my own haunting darkness that ate at my heart the way her darkness ate at hers. Let her see that I understood what she was going through. Let her see that I wanted to prevent anyone from ever suffering the way we both had ever again.

I learned forward slightly and held her gaze as I spoke quietly. “I was a prisoner in her court for nearly fifty years. I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it. Please – help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.”

I stared at her and bled for her and prayed for her.

I saw something in her eyes, the briefest glimmer of sympathy, of shared sorrow and pain.

And then it was gone, and she looked away and resumed eating.

Neither of us spoke again.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

She did not leave her chambers again for nearly a day. She did not come to dinner, nor breakfast the next day. Nuala said she was in bed each time they brought her food.

I waited for her – it felt like I was always waiting for her, had always waited for her, even before she was alive on this planet, I had waited for her.

She did not come.

And all I could do was pace and hold back the devouring terror an inch at a time.

But finally she emerged around noon the next day, finding me upstairs in the library, and I could have sank to my knees in relief. I held most of it back to a vaguely amused smile as she took a seat at the table, and I passed her a sheet of paper with sentences.

“Copy these sentences,” I drawled, teasing.

She held the paper and looked it over, and then perfectly she read, _“Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the center of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of.”_

My heart contracted to hear her say any of those words next to my name – they weren’t true of course, but it was surprisingly pleasurable to hear her say them… and even more so to see how smoothly she could read them. She was beyond amazing, my Feyre.

After finishing reading them, she sat the page down, then reached for a pen and copied the sentences down, word for word, in a script that was not as fluid as mine, but more than legible. Finished with the last word she handed the sheet to me, which I took and examined.

And then without warning I slammed my claws down into her mind. Only to have them bounce off her shield harmlessly, leaving no cracks or damage behind.

I stared at her, my breathing coming a little faster. “You practiced.” 

She stood up from the table, no emotion on her face – no pride or smugness or even annoyance. Blank.

As she walked away from me, she said, “I had nothing better to do.”

I watched her go, falling back into my chair when she was gone, my throat tightening with a sob that wanted to escape.

Oh Feyre…

\- - - ~*~ - - -

It was a few hours later that Azriel found me in that same exact spot, staring down at the page where she had copied the sentences.

One second there were only the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, the next second, he coalesced out of them and walked over to stand beside me. I knew he looked down at the paper in front of me, but he made no comment about the sentences written on it.

Instead he waited for me to lift my head to look at him before he said quietly, “We have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	3. In The Darkness Something Stirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand collects Feyre for her second visit  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand and Feyre eat breakfast and he tests her reading & writing  
> Ch. 3 - Rhysand goes to Hewn City (New Scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Rhysand returns Feyre to the Spring Court  
> Ch. 5 - Rhysand and Mor rescue Feyre
> 
> *Note: I first wrote part of this scene, decided it was dumb, almost deleted the whole thing, then had the idea to twist it and now I hope that maybe it's not so dumb. :D Join me on the 'Keir-is-an-asshole-train'!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I stood in front of her door, my heart in my throat. Tucked under one arm was a small stack of books I had selected for her – short stories from my youth I had loved, and in my opposite hand, a note. I thought about knocking, I wanted to knock, to see her, to check on her.

Perhaps I was as much a coward as Tamlin. Perhaps that was just one more reason why I did not and never would deserve her.

Leaning down, I sat the pile of books down on the floor beside her door and placed the note on top.

_I have business elsewhere. The house is yours. Send word if you need me._

Then I turned and walked back out to the main hall where Azriel waited for me.

I met his shadowed gaze and there was nothing in it but kindness. Azriel, so quiet and composed, reserved even; but I think, except for Mor, he might be the kindest among us. Few people noticed that however, put off by his shadows. But beneath it all was a soul who had survived the darkest, most abject cruelty, and rather than be swallowed alive by it he had instead embraced shadow and made a friend of them – and in doing so made truth of this adage: without darkness one could not see the stars. He would willingly continue to embrace shadow, he would abide the darkness and make a weapon of it if it meant the rest of us, our family, our court, the world, could stand in the bounty of the light.

I paused only once, turning to look over my shoulder, down the hall where her chamber was, then said quietly.

 “Let’s go.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

Azriel had picked up whispers of a threat – not against me, or at least not against me directly, but rather against Mor.

The work she had been doing in Hewn city had not been welcome. And while normally she could handle herself in a fight, she was my third in command after all, but as High Lord I could not tolerate this sort of behavior against one in my inner circle.

There were times in which I had to let my family fight their own battles. And there were times in which I had to remind people that I was High Lord and they owed me their sovereignty and to threaten anyone in my inner circle was tantamount to treason.

This would be one of those times.

Hewn city.

It was hell made manifest.

Even before Under the Mountain I had hated coming here, but ever since it had become its own special brand of torture. The darkness of the caverns, and the way the stone pressed in around me made my neck and shoulders tighten up and my mouth go dry.

But I could not show any of it, I could have no weakness, not here, not ever.

Azriel and I winnowed to my castle inside the mountain, into the overly large, personal receiving chamber connected to the bedroom I practically never used. Mor was already there, waiting along with Cassian beside her – a precaution she was obviously not happy about.

“Rhys, this is unnecessary.” Were the first words out of her mouth even before we had fully winnowed into place.

I cast her a look that said, _be quiet,_ then cast out my power, sealing the chamber in a bubble of darkness and silence, preventing anyone from being able to listen in.

With that done I slid my hands into my pockets and turned to face her. “Mor, we are not discussing this – my decision in this matter is not because I believe you are incapable of handling threats to your person, but because where this threat is coming from is proof of a greater issue – one in which I need to handle personally.”

She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, staring at me with a touch of anger. I merely stared at her until she finally let out a long, low breath.

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Relief eased my shoulders slightly – I was not in the mood to argue with her about this.

“Go to the palace and protect Feyre. I do not expect any problems from this, but she is closer to the problem than I would like. And… she asked about you. I… don’t expect her to look for you, but just in case…” I swallowed and went silent.

All three of them stared at me for a moment, then Cassian and Azriel looked away, leaving Mor to read my gaze alone. Her eyes asked the question: _What’s wrong?_

I reached out, and with the lightest touch of my thoughts against her mind I said: _She’s worse. So much worse. I think… she’s dying._  

Mor’s eyes tightened with anger – not at me or Feyre, but at what Feyre was going through. She nodded once and stood up, walking forward to touch my arm lightly. “Be careful Rhys.”

Then she took one step away and winnowed to the palace above our heads.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then let out a breath and looked at my brothers. 

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

Treason was always messy business.

When a threat came from outside your lands, the objective was usually clear: protect your people, your land, your court.

When the threat came from inside your own land – well, the objective was still the same, but there would always be a splinter group of people who might sympathize with the traitor… friends and family who had known the person, who had seen the good in them at one point or another.

Either way, it was messy business. Death always was.

The first day back in the Hewn city was spent in observation – which was Azriel’s specialty. Technically I could have helped him with this, but he was better at it, so I left him to it. Remaining in my chambers, sealed behind the bubble of silence with Cassian.

Cassian handled the forced waiting even worse than I did in some ways. He was a man of action and having to wait with nothing to do ate at him – he saw the value in patience, but he needed work to keep him on task.

I had none to give him, so he chaffed.

At some point he finally summoned all of his weapons and began a thorough job and cleaning and sharpening each of them, putting far more effort into his work than was necessary. It ate up a few hours, and when he looked to be coming to an end of the task, I silently summoned my own blades and offered them to him – I was more than capable of maintaining my own weapons, and did so usually, but he accepted the additional task without comment.

I however found myself unable to focus on a specific task. Instead I paced the chamber, my hands folded behind my back and gaze focused on the dark stone floor beneath me. My thoughts were absolute chaos, and as much as I tried to focus on the information Azriel had given me, they kept cycling around to Feyre – to the look in her eyes, that dead, dull, soulless look. She could not be dying; she could not be. I could not lose her. How could I save her? Feyre… Feyre… How… What… _Why._

The air shifted and I spun, just as Azriel appeared in the center of the room and I had to calm my racing heart and clamp down on my darkness that threatened to snap out against the perceived threat. My hold on my darkness had been tenuous lately, and I knew it and I knew why. My mind was too eaten up with Feyre that I found it difficult to properly control, not just my darkness, but anything in my life anymore. That woman… she would be the death of me in the end.

Letting out a breath, I relaxed my shoulders and folded my hands back behind my back again. “Well? What did you find out?”

Azriel shifted, his wings spreading slightly, stretching slowly, then folding back in tightly against his back.

“The attack is planned for this evening, there is to be a private function that Mor was invited to and had intended to appear at. Rumor has it the party is intended to be when he will reveal the engagement of his third daughter, Lyra to Lord Beltair’s son, Tyrelle. Lyra and Mor were childhood friends and have remained in contact.” He paused, letting me absorb this.

I nodded slowly, thinking, then said, “How was this marriage arranged? Lord Helyn is a relatively minor noble, and I don’t recall any of his daughters having unusual abilities that might garner attention from Lord Beltair. He has been waiting for years to find the most advantageous match for his only son. If I recall, Keir even considered offering Mor to Lord Beltair’s son before Eris became an option.”

At my words both Azriel and Cassian stiffened – neither of them liked talking about what happened to Mor, neither did I for that matter. 

Azriel shifted slightly and said, “I’m not entirely sure who arranged the marriage, but there has been a rumor that… Keir had a hand in it.”

I froze and stared at Azriel, running that through my head before I said slowly. “Isn’t Lord Helyn related to Keir? A twice removed cousin or something similar?”

He nodded once.

Anger. My veins began to fill with anger and darkness.

“Who is supposed to do it, and how?”

Azriel’s gaze was steadfast. “Lord Helyn. Poison.”

Keir.

That sadistic, treasonous _bastard._ And I had no doubt we could prove none of it. Oh, I was sure Keir had arranged the marriage for a less prosperous familial relation on the guarantee he would take care of his wayward and troublesome daughter, but he would have done it through back doors and false channels. Proving it would mean stripping through the minds of the entire court, possibly the entirety of Hewn city.

And I was not above doing that. Let the whole damn city burn.

_Mor. Morrigan._

The worst part of this entire situation is that I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that Lord Beltair had no intention of letting his son marry Helyn’s daughter – in the grand scheme of rank and power, she was a nobody. Beltair’s son was just a lure to a desperate fish, and Keir had threaded the bait – he had signed Helyn’s death warrant and the bastard probably hadn’t thought twice about it. Was Helyn really that stupid?

Something in that question made stop, and literally take a step back as my mind rand through it all again.

It was too perfect. A relatively low-ranking girl, marrying wildly outside of her rank, a marriage arranged by a bastard everyone knew I hated, all guaranteed by a desperate father intent on killing my third in command to ensure the marriage happened. The perfect package guaranteed to get me to Hewn city to stamp out the treasonous act and defend my inner circle.

“It’s a trap.”

Azriel’s body tensed as his gaze sharpened. Behind him Cassian leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, watching us both. 

I looked past them to the wall as I ran the thoughts through my head over and over. “I’m not saying there isn’t still an intent on Mor’s life, but she would be collateral damage – she isn’t the main target.”

The shadows around Azriels body thickened with the building rage evident in his eyes as I looked back at him.

“Who is?” He asked thickly.

They couldn’t hope to kill me, not with poison, they couldn’t think I would be that stupid again. A physical attack was unlikely – a mental one laughable. I was not an easy target to take down.

So, who, or what is the goal?

Collateral damage. Destabilize the court. Destabilize me.

I had to laugh, I let out a short bark of laughter.

What was it I had told Feyre the last time she was here?

 _“But I don’t think the King of Hybern will strike that way – not at first... If he makes his move to destroy Prythian and the wall, it’ll be through stealth and trickery. To weaken us.”_  

I shook my head, it was clever, oh so very clever, that crafty old King – I had to give him credit, he was definitely playing the long game.

“Rhys, who is the target?” Cassian asked me, bringing my attention back to both of them.

Dropping my hands down from behind my back, I slid them into my pockets and grinned without an ounce of humor. “In a way, we all are. There is an attempt on Mor’s life, that hasn’t changed, and however unlikely it would be to succeed, if it did it and she was killed it would destabilize our group. As well as take out a potential threat in the war. If it didn’t succeed and she survived, it would still destabilize the court as we hunted for traitors – not to mention distract us.” I looked between the two of them and said simply, “It’s Hybern.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

It hadn’t taken much time for both Azriel and Cassian to reach the same conclusion I did when I laid it out for them to see – and the anger in them both mirrored mine.

The war had already begun, but it was behind closed doors – a war of whispers and intrigue.

After we discussed all of our options, I sent Azriel and Cassian to work, and I left my chambers as well, working my way through my dark castle to one specific set of rooms.

And now I stood in front of the polished black door leading to the chambers of my steward.

Keir.

The sanctimonious conniving _bastard_.

I had very little doubt that Hybern had contacted him. But I also had very little doubt that he was not _actively_ assisting them. Keir was not one to get his hands dirty in any activities that did not have a total guarantee of success – his actions with his daughter drove that decision home for him decades ago. And because of those actions, to this very day, he lives only by her grace – a choice I would never take from her.

Instead, I would bet that he had played very lightly in this attempt to destabilize my court, perhaps hinting at Lord Beltair the potential of reward if he consented to his son marrying Lord Helyn’s daughter, and to Lord Helyn he must have laid his potential rise in power on thick to convince him to attempt to murder my third in command. But he would have promised neither of them anything. Honeyed words – that would have been all. I also believed that he would not have done any of this for Hybern’s benefit but simply to undermine me out of pure hatred.

_Bastard._

Taking a steadying breath, I slid one hand into a pocket, then reached up and knocked twice on the door, then waited.

The door cracked open and a young fae, a servant by the look of her, peeked through, saw me and paled. “H-high Lord…”

My eyes were dark as I peered past her in the luxuriously appointed room, “Is Keir in residence?” I knew he was, Azriel had confirmed it before he went off on his other assigned task.

In answer she opened the door fully and moved aside, giving me access.

I stepped inside past her to a smaller receiving chamber than my own, though not entirely unlike my own larger one in style. She shut the door and then rushed past me, through a set of doors to what was the private dining chamber.

“He’s _what?”_ I heard Keir yell, and nearly smirked.

A moment more and Keir was passing through the doors to face me, a resentful scowl on his face. He approached me and bowed, sullenness written on every line of his body.

“My Lord,” he said coldly as he stood up straight, “To what do I owe this… honor?”

I glanced past him to the open door that led to the dining room, and the dinner he had abandoned.

Arching a brow, I looked back at him, “Dining alone Keir? Are you not going to the party tonight?”

I saw a muscle twitch in Keir’s jaw. “What party, my Lord?”

I slid my other hand into my pocket, remaining calm as I stared him down. “Why Lord Helyn’s of course, rumor has it his daughter is to marry Lord Beltair’s son. Rumor has it you had a hand it. That’s a surprisingly advantageous marriage on the part of Lord Helyn’s daughter. I am curious what drove you to be so… magnanimous.”

Keir swallowed once and I could tell he did not have a good answer – and familial ties was not one. He didn’t give a shit about family, only power – and while a distant family member marrying Lord Beltair’s son would equate to power, it would do little to increase his own. This was a man who did nothing unless it benefited him directly.

So, he chose to remain silent.

I continued smoothly. “I’ve also heard that you have made a new friend. I’m impressed Keir, for being such a bastard I’m surprised anyone would want to be in the same room as you, let alone be your friend.” Sweat beaded across his forehead. “Of course, this new friend of yours is also a bastard, so perhaps it isn’t too surprising.”

I took a step towards him and let a touch of my darkness begin to leak out, the tendrils of it curling around my body. 

“I know what you did, what you intended to let happen Keir.” I said in almost a whisper. “And the only reason I am not shattering your mind right now is for two reasons. The first is that your life is already forfeit and belongs solely in Mor’s hands – every breath you take is one she lets you take and never, _never_ forget that.” More of my darkness leaked out, the shadows blossoming out of me, the tendrils reaching out, caressing against his body, as though reaching out to grab him, to hold him before me in judgement.

I watched a shudder roll down his spine and allowed myself a cold, tight lipped smile.

“And two, despite my best intentions, I might have use for you sooner than either of us might desire. Do not strain my tolerance Keir – or what little use you have will not outweigh my patience.”

And without waiting for a response from him, I turned and left. Calmly and confidently making my way through the castle and down the stairs towards the dungeon underneath. My hands were fisted in my pockets at my rage over Keir and my dislike of entering these dark, dank hallways of pain and suffering. I had never used them much, not if I could help it, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

Reaching the appointed door, I pushed it open and stepped inside the dark room that smelled of stagnation and fear. Standing beside Cassian was a man I vaguely remembered seeing in court on rare occasions, shorter than both Azriel and Cassian, with a slimmer build and thick brown hair tinged with red. He was dressed in fine but relatively simple cut of clothing, maroon and black. And he was terrified.

At the sight of me, he bowed deep, and began to rise, “M-my-“

Cassian, to his right, growled at him, “Kneel.”

He froze, and then fell to his knees, his hands balled at his sides, shaking.

I walked towards him, stopping a few feet in front him as I studied his lowered head.

Without a word I stretched out my darkness and curled it around his mind, sinking my claws into his thought as he gasped out loud and tensed.

Frame by frame I cycled my way through his thoughts and memories, examining each one – invading every corner of his mind. Beneath my thorough search he trembled in mute horror, sweat breaking out across his face and dripping off his chin onto the floor below him.

Reaching the memories, I was looking for. The meeting he had attended with a man I did not recognize, offering the advantageous marriage of his daughter for the price of Mor’s life. Then the memories of the meeting he had with Keir, which confirmed everything I had figured out on my own. Keir had promised him nothing, hadn’t even mentioned killing Mor, had only soothed his concerns and hinted at the power he might soon gain.

What was surprising was where the poison he had meant to use came from – it was not given to him from the mysterious man sent by Hybern, but instead by Lord Beltair. I had not expected that – I imagined Lord Beltair had been promised some compensation to go along with this marriage arrangement, even just for show, I did not expect him to even know about the murder attempt.

Hot rage surged through me as I finally released the man’s mind and he sagged forward, breathing hard.

The man before me had to be one of the dumbest people I had ever met.

“Did you honestly think that we wouldn’t either know before hand, or figure out who was responsible after?” I asked him with disgust.

He kept his head low, nearly touching the floor as he shuddered and began to weep, “M-my Lo-“

I cut him off, “Be silent.”

A decision had to be made – and only I could make it. While this man had not actually committed the crime, the intent was there, the thoughts about it were resolved – he would have tried to kill Mor. Had he succeeded his life would have been forfeit – was the intent any different?

Lifting my gaze I met Cassian’s gaze.

No.

No, it wasn’t.

“You will be executed at dawn. Your family, while blameless, will be banished – they will reap the punishment your desire for power has cost. Take whatever comfort you can in the fact that I permit them to live.”

A low sob escaped him as I turned and left the cell, with Cassian following behind me, shutting and locking the door. Azriel was waiting in the hallway, and the barely suppressed rage on his face stopped me short.

“Lord Beltair and his entire family are gone.”

\- - - ~*~ - - -

We were back in my chambers, Cassian sitting at the same table as earlier, with me perched in a chair opposite of him. Azriel, too angry to sit and just barely stopping himself from pacing like an angry beast in a cage, explained what he had discovered.

While I had attended my private meeting with Keir, Cassian had gone to collect Lord Helyn, and Azriel to collect Lord Beltair – only he had discovered their family home empty. That is, except for the five dead bodies of the fae who had been their servants, their throats slit, their blood pooled around their still warm forms.

Murdered to ensure their silence while the family fled the city and even Azriel did not know where they had gone. But one look at his face told me he would never stop looking for them – this war could be won and over with for a hundred years and he would still be looking in order to bring them to justice. 

All I felt was tired, just so damn tired.

Leaning back in my chair I let out a low sigh and reached up, rubbing my eyes slowly.

I would have to make a formal pronouncement at court tomorrow, after the execution and the banishment of Helyn’s family. The court would not be happy, they were rarely pleased with anything I did, let alone my existence at all.

We might have foiled the plot, but the court would still be disrupted, perhaps not as badly as it could have been, but it still bespoke of potential trouble later on.

“Azriel, go get Mor and bring her back here please.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed once, and then the shadows wrapped around him and he stepped through them, disappearing.

Cassian stood up and walked over to the side board, picking up a decanter of amber liquid and poured two glasses. Handing me one he sat back down and took a slow sip before he said, “Mor isn’t going to be happy about her friend.” 

I rolled the glass between my hands, tracking the way the liquid swirled in the glass.

“No. But I suspect she has some contacts who might be able to help them out – truly they are blameless. Maybe the winter court, she had a good friend there.”

Another immeasurable time of silence while we both drank.

“At least this cleaned up relatively quickly.” Cassian said and I glanced at him because of the hint of a smile in his voice, teasing. “You can get back to that girl before the week is up.” 

Feyre

Cauldron boil me. What was I going to do about Feyre.

I looked away and closed my eyes and wanted to weep.

“Rhys.” His voice turned gentle but I didn’t look at him or respond.

“Rhys, what is it? What’s wrong?” I just shook my head, downed the last of my drink, set the glass on the table and stood.

“I don’t expect Mor or Azriel back for several hours, she will be helping him calm down first. I’m going to go get some rest, you should as well."

I made my way to my bed chamber, closing the door behind me and staring at the cool dark bed and its black silk sheets. I hated this room and this bed; I hated the memory that always came back to me whenever I came here.

_Ianthe._

I let out a low growl and shook my head before stalking to the bed and laying down fully clothed on my back, staring up at the ceiling and wishing I could see past the dark stone, through the ceiling and the mountain to the open sky.

And Feyre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	4. A Book of Ice and Hands of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand collects Feyre for her second visit  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand and Feyre eat breakfast and he tests her reading & writing  
> Ch. 3 - Rhysand goes to Hewn City (New Scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Rhysand returns Feyre to the Spring Court  
> Ch. 5 - Rhysand and Mor rescue Feyre
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

The execution was held at dawn, and as I was the one to cast sentence, I stood to witness it.

Azriel carried it out, quickly and cleanly.

Hours later I summoned my court and explain the sentencing, or at least as much as I was willing to explain. I left Hybern out of it – there would be time enough to reveal their involvement later, when we were ready.

Once I dismissed the court, I turned to my family, my heart heavy with all that had happened. I was just so damn tired.

 And empty.

I looked at each of them nodded once and said, “Back to it then. I’ll be back in a few days. You know where to find me.”

They said nothing, simply bowed.

And I winnowed back to the palace above.

And she still did not come.

And I did not know how to help her. 

I did not know how to help myself.

Two broken souls.

Finally I couldn’t stay away any longer, I knew she had taken to sitting in one of the many open air lounges overlooking the mountains. I went to the kitchens and collected two generous plates of food and made my way to where she was sitting. When I first spotted her I stopped to drink in the sight of her, curled up in a chair, a book in her lap. The gentle wind played with her brown-gold locks, and I watched her toes curl, the sun playing across them.

She was a dream, every inch of her, beautiful.

And at the same time… a week of better sleep and food had helped, but her body was still too thin and worn, her skin too pale, and the way her shoulders curled in on her as though the weight of her grief was slowly crushing her.

I swallowed and walked forward, passing between the two chairs and settling into the one beside her. “Since you seem hell-bent on a sedentary lifestyle,” I said, working to keep my words light and playful, and leaned forward to place both plates on the low table in front of us, “I thought I’d go one step further and bring your food to you.”

She lowered the book enough to glance from the food to me and said quietly, “Thank you.”

I laughed, “ _Thank you?_ Not ‘ _High Lord and servant’?_ Or: ‘ _Whatever is is you want, you can shove it up your ass, Rhysand’?”_ I clicked my tongue at her in mock disapproval, “How disappointing.”

She didn’t respond except the set her book down on her lap and lean forward to grab her plate of food, her fingers just barely grazing the edge of the plate when I reached out with a tendril of darkness and pulled the plate just slightly out of reach. She reached again and I drew it back a little farther.

Quietly I murmured, “Tell me what to do. Tell me what to do to help you.”

Her gaze flickered up to meet mine.

Her face was so wan and thin, the darkness roiled up in me again, tendrils of it curling around my fingers and curving around my back, shaping the outline of my wings.

“Months and months, and you’re still a ghost.” I accused her lightly, “Does no one there ask what the hell is happening? Does your High Lord simply not care?”

She stiffened and leaned back, saying with a little bite to her voice, much to my relief. “He’s giving me space to sort it out.”

I leaned forward, “Let me help you.” My gaze bore into hers, willing her to trust me, to take my help, to just _try._ “We went through enough Under the Mountain-“

She flinched.

I gritted my teeth and said sharply, “She wins. That bitch wins if you let yourself fall apart.”

She looked away, picking up her book and opening it, staring down at the pages as I felt her shield drop long enough for her to hurl a thought down at me, then snap shut again.

_Conversation over._

I snarled, “Like hell it is.”

I reached out with my darkness, wrapping the tendrils of my power around the cover of the book and then pushed, forcing the book closed beneath her hands.

I watched her fingers curve and nails dig into the leather of the binding.

She slowly lifted her gaze to meet mine and… I couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes, that had been so dull and lifeless only minutes before, fairly glowed with anger and power now. My heart raced. _Keep going…_

And so suddenly it shocked me, she raised the book and _hurled_ it at my head, and it was only years of battle reflexes that let me throw a shield up in time to deflect the book away from my head… but I swore, on the edges of the book there was ice glimmering in the sunshine.

Feyre… oh my beloved Feyre. She was still alive! That radiance was still there inside of her. I hadn’t… I hadn’t lost her.

Swallowing hard, struggling not to shatter completely as the realization pounded through me.

Even as she sunk back into the chair and receded back into herself, I was still so happy I could have laughed and cried all at once.

I could call it out again. She wasn’t lost. Not yet. Not  _ever._

“Any time you need someone to play with,” I said to her with a voice that was almost hoarse with emotion, and reached out with a tendril of my darkness to push the plate across the table towards her, “Whether it’s during our marvelous week together or otherwise, you let me know.”

She didn’t respond or even look up at me again.

We ate in companionable silence.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

The next morning, she met me in the court yard to return to the Spring Court, the circles under her eyes darker than they had been yesterday. She hadn’t slept well then…

She barely met my eyes when she said quietly, “Good morning.” Then stretched her hand out for me to take.

I couldn’t resist the offer, even if it was the catalyst to having to let her go again. I slid my calloused fingers over her smooth hand, gripping it gently, and pulled her into the circle of my arms.

The darkness swirled up around us and for the seconds it took for us to arrive at the Spring Court I savored the feel of her in my arms.

Settling down on the stones, my gaze lifted to meet Tamlin’s murderous glare, and I matched it with my own.

Then I let my arms slide from around her and slip into my pockets while I smoothed my face back to its normal sardonic half-smirk. 

“Get inside.” He growled at her and my hands curled into fists.

She walked towards him but paused to look back at me, and I met her gaze. 

My heart broke.

“Fight it.” I whispered to her and vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


	5. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.
> 
> I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.
> 
> This Section:  
> Ch. 1 - Rhysand collects Feyre for her second visit  
> Ch. 2 - Rhysand and Feyre eat breakfast and he tests her reading & writing  
> Ch. 3 - Rhysand goes to Hewn City (New Scene)  
> Ch. 4 - Rhysand returns Feyre to the Spring Court  
> Ch. 5 - Rhysand and Mor rescue Feyre
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

I buried myself in work, hardly even taking time to eat – I had to keep busy, keep moving. I spent several of those first days after she went back to the Spring Court with Cassian in the Illyrian camps, helping him reinforce the various changes we were making.

During the fifty years that Amarantha ruled the Illyrians had been left to their devices, and many of them had turned to old ways that I had outlawed during my first years as High Lord. Forcing them to once again obey the laws I had set in place was an uphill battle and it required constant diligence on the part of Cassian, and myself.

And we were hated because of it – hell we were hated for nothing more than being a bastard and half-breed, making them conform to rules they didn’t agree with just added more wood to the pyre. Their hatred helped me handle the panic over having let Feyre go again fortunately, their hatred was something I could push back against with equal fervor. The only thing I had to be careful about was not to let myself go too far – because I could easily mist the whole damn mountain range of Illyrians, and I was in just enough of a bad mood to be tempted to do it.

After five days of cold and pig-headed Illyrian assholes, I finally returned to Velaris. Amren had scheduled an appointment with the trade commission that I was asked to attend – Velaris had always been a sea port but during the last fifty years all trade in and out of the city had been stopped. It was picking up again and at first the prices of items had sky rocketed as new merchandise once again entered the city, and we had been forced to take a strict hold on pricing to allow for the fervor to die down. It was months later now and we had started relaxing the control on pricing and letting the market manage itself, and it was time to review the results of these decisions.

Hours of discussion and documents, surrounded by stodgy, clever minded traders and merchants, it helped as much as the Illyrian camps had helped.

I kept busy, and yet still felt so empty.

At at night, when there was nothing to fill the time, and sleep was still a brutal affair, I often took to the sky’s instead.

I felt most at peace while flying – that was one thing that had not changed, even after fifty years under the mountain. My wings spread wide, the slight ache in my muscles from the years of disuse, but the memory remained of how to catch and ride the wind, how to flap and beat against it as I dove and soared through and against the eddies of the night time air. Above me the sky, a brilliant symphony of blacks and blues, blazoned with the burning brilliance of stars. Below me the city of Velaris as alive and vibrant at night as it was during the day, the twisting cacophony of music and laughter rising up to cradle me as I circled in lazy passes over its beating pulse of life.

And as I floated and soared among the stars, I thought about her. I always thought about her, but it was only during this time that I really let myself focus my thoughts about her. It was during one such flight that I realized I had never heard her laugh, she never smiled of course, she had so little to smile about anymore it seemed… and I wanted to see her smile, blessed Mother, I wanted to see her smile at me, _because_ of me. But to hear her laugh? I couldn’t even imagine what it might sound like…

I drifted, and if it was not sleep, it was restful, cradled by starlight and thoughts of her.

\- - - ~*~ - - -

Mor and I were having lunch together, something we didn’t get to do together often enough anymore it seemed like. Plates and paperwork dotted the table as we talked and haggled and yes, even laughed a time or two. I realized I was happy at one moment, maybe not… whole. But happy enough to sustain myself. Our plates were mostly empty, and we were both leaning back, she held a glass of wine in her hand, still sipping from it while I told her briefly about some of what had happened at the camps when…

Something…

Something was not right.

I fell silent and leaned forward, furrowing my brows as I tried to figure out what…

Mor leaned forward as well, setting her glass down, “Rhys?”

The feeling, the panic, it had started slow but now… it was beyond anything I had ever experienced – it felt the way I imagined a tidal wave might feel, a great expanse of water, gaining in speed and power until it crashed in hard and fast and utterly, utterly devastating.

TRAPPED

CAN’T GET OUT CAN'T GET OUT CAN’TGETOUTCAN’TGETOUT 

I could see into her mind, her shields we're entirely gone, through her eyes, I could see her shoving against an invisible wall, trapped inside the house. 

I could feel the panic flooding through her, I could feel her powers activating all at once in instinct, lashing out against an enemy that didn’t exist in front of her. With nothing to work _against_ they began to turn in on her.

She alternately froze and burned, darkness wrapping around her, smothering her as she began to break, to fall apart… to shatter.

My eyes snapped up and met Mors as she reached for me, her eyes widening in shock at what she saw there, my breathing coming in wild, ragged breaths.

Feyrefeyrefeyre

I reached out, grabbing Mors wrist, and without a second thought, winnowed us to the Spring Court.

On the way I managed to reach out to Mor’s mind and explain what was happening – incapable of speaking, she understood and knew what I needed her to do; she could say no, I would do it myself, but if she wanted to help forestall a war with the Spring Court then she had to be the one to do it.

We arrived in the bright light of the Spring Day and I could _taste_ her fear in the air. I could feel the heavy thrum of power pulsing inside the manor house just in front of us.

I reached up and with one hand, smashed the shield around the house so violently the air around us rippled.

“Go,” Mor told me as she turned and ran towards the house, having already summoned her curved Illyrian style blade.

My heart hammering, I winnowed out to the border of the Summer Court that touched along the Spring Court, right near the cave entrance that lead to the Doorway.

Minutes past. Eternity passed. I couldn’t even pace. I stood so still I felt frozen, my hands in near claws as I just stared at the darkness that was the cave…

And then Mor stepped through it, holding Feyre in her arms gently, talking to her soothingly.

The sight of her… how was it possible she could look worse after only _eight days?_ She did though, but it wasn’t just her body… her spirit… Oh Feyre…

A low, vicious snarl cleaved out of me as I all but ran to Mor’s side.

Mor slowed and lifted Feyre into my waiting arms, speaking to me softly, “I did everything by the book.”

She was so light, so interminably light – as though she weighed nothing more than gossamer and starlight. Swallowing hard I kept my eyes on her face, nodding once and whispered, “Then we’re done here.”

The darkness swirled up around us and I carried her gently home, to the Night Court.

Arriving among the moonstone columns, I carried her through the hallways and up to the open air veranda we had always dined in. I didn’t want to take her to her bedchamber, there were too many walls there, and even though she was asleep in my arms, I wanted her to have open air and sky. I settled her down on a couch tucked to one side, crouching down at her side. I reached up, tucking some of her hair behind an ear and then lightly trailed one finger down the sharp line of her jaw.

“Oh Feyre…” I whispered to her softly, “I’m so sorry…”

I had failed her. I had failed her Under the Mountain, I hadn’t managed to protect her from the trials, and hadn’t managed to save her from Amarantha killing her. And I had failed her in this – I should have gone for her months ago, I should have protected her from him.

I closed my eyes and hung my head low.

What would she wake up as? I wouldn’t let myself consider that she wouldn’t wake up, that fear was too much to bear.

Would she wake up completely broken?

Will I have finally lost her completely?

I crouched there beside her for how long, I don’t know, but eventually I stood up and moved to a chair next to the couch and sat at her side. All through the night, I watched every breath she took, and counted every heartbeat.

And only when the sun began to crown the mountain tops and I was sure she had made it through the night, did my gaze leave her face to stare blindly across the mountains.

Another length of time filled with silence and her heart beat.

And then I heard her swallow and my head whipped around to look at her, stare at her, my throat catching.

And looking into her eyes it all came back, the panic and terror, and the rage that boiled up in me at Tamlin felt insurmountable…

But I let it go. For her, I let it go.

She was all that mattered right now. I had to know how she was doing, that was the only thing that had ever mattered.

“What happened?” She asked in a hoarse whisper.

I felt her thoughts flicker down the bond, her walls were gone completely, and I was honestly relieved, just to hear that she _had_ thoughts at all.

“You _were_ screaming,” I responded to her thought and her question, leaning forward in the chair slightly. “You also managed to scare the shit out of every servant and sentry in Tamlin’s manor when you wrapped yourself in darkness and they couldn’t see you.”

I felt her stomach drop out, “Did I hurt any-“

I quickly shook my head and interrupted, “No. Whatever you did, it was contained to you.”

“You weren’t-“ she started.

I heard the thought, _you weren’t the one that came for me._ I closed my eyes for a moment and blew out a breath before I explained, “By law and protocol, things would have become very complicated and very messy if I had been the one to walk into that house and take you.” I leaned back again and stretched my legs out in front of me. “Smashing that shield was fine, but Mor had to go in on her own two feet, render the sentries unconscious through her own power, and carry you over the border to another court before I could bring you here. Or else Tamlin would have free rein to march his forces into my lands to reclaim you. And as I have no interest in an internal war, we had to do everything by the book.”

Silence.

“When I go back…” she said hesitantly.

I flinched away internally at the thought.

“As your presence here isn’t part of our monthly requirement, you are under no obligation to go back.” I reached up and rubbed my temple, trying to hold back the emotions that were battering through me. “Unless you wish to.”

Her next words threatened to break me though. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what had happened, but to hear her say it. And in that… broken voice.

“He locked me in that house.”

The darkness swirled up inside me again, the rage twisting along with it, and yet somehow, I kept my face calm. “I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up – for once.”

I added the last bit, a tiny tease, to try and lighten the mood, if not my own heart.

She just stared at me. “I have nowhere else to go.”

I could hear the question, and the plea aching in her voice. Did she not realize, even now? She must not, she must think so badly of herself to think herself unwanted, even here, with me… even if, even if we weren’t friends, I had hoped she could recognize that I had wanted her here. That my door would always be open to her, no matter what she chose.

Sighing softly, I gestured briefly, “Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it.”

She looked down, “I – I need to go back at some point.”

I gritted my teeth a little with frustration, but that too I let go – it was her choice, it would always be here choice. “Say the word, and it’s done.”

I could see her next thoughts, about what little she had to go back to, to an empty life with no purpose, no meaning.

I crossed my ankle over my knee and took a gamble, “I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing… All of it is yours.”

Images of herself begging back before, when she had been mortal, flashed across her mind and I quickly interrupted that train of thought.

“Work for me,” I said, almost pleaded, “I owe you anyway. And we’ll figure out the rest day by day, if need be.”

She looked past me and across the mountain, and I felt her mind drift to the Spring Court again, thinking about Tamlin, about his anger – an image of red paint splattered on a wall crossed her mind and I had to control my breathing for a second as I, for the first time, saw the entirety of that memory.

_Tamlin._

I would kill him one day.

Her words were what drew me back though and sent my heart racing with such hope that I wasn’t sure I would survive it.

“I’m not going back.” She looked back at me, “Not – not until I figure things out.”

She… she had picked me, my court, my lands. Maybe in a roundabout way but, she had chosen to stay. Here.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I felt down to the kitchens were and brushed minds with a lone servant there, ordering a cup of tea. Minutes later I winnowed it into my hand, then leaned forward, offering the cup to her.

“Drink it.”

She sat up a little and took the mug from my hands, and I watched her until she took a fortifying sip of it. Then I turned my attention from her back to the mountains, giving her space to breathe, to process.

After a while she spoke up again, hesitant. “The darkness – is that… part of the power _you_ gave me?”

A corner of my mouth quirked in a quick smile. “One would assume so.”

I heard her final swallow of the tea before she asked, “No wings?”

She didn’t know that the wings I had came from the blood my mother gave me, half-blood, half-Illyrian, but… that didn’t mean she couldn’t one day have wings. “If you inherited some of Tamlin’s shape-shifting, perhaps you can make wings of your own.”

Another pause, then more questions. “And the other High Lords? Ice – that’s Winter. That shield I once made of hardened wind – who did that come from? What might the others have given me? Is – is winnowing tied to any one of you particular?”

So many questions, it was… it was like a breath of fresh air. To hear her curiosity again, to feel her mind crave knowledge. In that moment, my fears from the night before evaporated. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that she was better, but she was still alive, and that was enough to work with.

I glanced back at her, considering, “Wind? The Day Court, likely. And winnowing – it’s not confined to any court. It’s wholly dependent on your own reserve of power – and training.” I felt the thought flash across her mind, how she had tried and failed to winnow. I wasn’t concerned though, I believed she could do it, with practice. We would work on it. “And as for the gifts you got from everyone else… That’s for you to find out, I suppose.”

She scowled at me. “I should have known your goodwill would wear off after a minute.”

I couldn’t help myself, I let out a low chuckle. I had missed that lovely scowl of hers.

I stood slowly, the first time in hours and stretched my arms up above my head, rolling my neck as I felt muscles pop and ease. Brushing my clothes off I turned to face her, “Rest a day or two, Feyre,” I said simply, “Then take on the task of figuring out everything else. I have business in another part of my lands; I’ll be back by the end of the week.”

She still looked so tired, half dead even. My Feyre…

When she didn’t respond, I nodded once then turned and began to head out, planning to stop by the kitchens to order food for her when her voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Take me with you.”

There wasn’t even the slightest chance that I could miss the plea in her voice. I turned slowly to look back at her, “You should rest.”

She placed the mug down on the floor and then began to push herself up, saying almost desperately, “I’ve rested enough.” She looked wobbly, as though her legs would not be able to support her, but after a moment she pulled herself straight and met my gaze, her own full of desperate need to not be left alone, with nothing to do. “Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re doing – take me along. I’ll stay out of trouble. Just… please.”

I broke apart.

She should never, _never_ be forced to beg for anything, and most especially not me, and not for this – for the freedom to have purpose. But where I was going… Velaris. My city. I had sacrificed everything in me to keep my city safe. Taking her there would be running the risk of exposing it, if she ever went back to Tamlin that is.

I stared at her, and before I had even consciously made a decision, I found myself pacing towards her, “If you come with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see to anyone outside of my court. Because if you do, people will die – _my_ people will die. So, if you come, you will have to lie about it forever; if you return to the Spring Court, you _cannot_ tell anyone there what you see, and who you meet, and what you will witness. If you would rather not have that between you and – your friends, then stay here.”

I came to a stop in front of her and stared into her eyes, searching. 

She held my gaze, she did not falter, she did not deflect.

“Take me with you,” she breathed, “I won’t tell anyone what I see. Even – them.”

And I knew without a doubt she was not lying. I knew she would never tell anyone – the same way that I knew that Under the Mountain she would save us, bone deep and heart sure.

I gave her a slow, half-smile, “We leave in ten minutes. If you want to freshen up, go ahead.”

The relief rolling off of her was palatable. “Where are we going?”

The reality that she was coming with me, that I was taking her to my city, my beloved city, to my home, my true home – not just the city but the house I truly considered home, not a palace or a castle, just that, a home, sent happiness through every inch of me. My smile widened into a full-fledged grin, “To Velaris – the City of Starlight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This endeavor is my first ever fanfiction attempt, and it has been a blast to play with so far.
> 
> I would love to see your comments about what I'm writing!
> 
> So please hit me up with what you think! - Otter


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